


the mathematics of uncertainty (all gods are bastards)

by konoyo



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn, Suicidal Ideation, UST, machine!Connor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-08-07 05:14:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16401980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/konoyo/pseuds/konoyo
Summary: It's a dark day in Detroit when Hank Anderson is the only one standing between a rebellion and an android who's out for blood. But it is all just property damage, in the end.





	1. Chapter 1

Hank absolutely loathed his job. He hated it. And not just for how it drained him of any hope he had for humanity. How left him with no more energy other than to collapse onto the couch with some shitty late night TV. It wasn't even how he could always muster up the effort to bring along a bottle of whiskey and then pass out from the attempt at draining it dry. How, after a particularly harrowing day, he was driven by despair enough to even get out his old revolver, spinning the chambers as he thought and thought and thought.

No, that was a typical Tuesday night for Hank Anderson.

It had all been business as usual when CyberLife had sent some mooks to ‘monitor' the android situation. Just lawyers, they said. Just making sure that the PR aspect was handled. They couldn't let public opinion get out of hand, after all. It was incredibly obvious that they only wanted to scrub CyberLife's hands clean and that they had the money to get what they wanted. There would always be dirty cops. But when Hank saw those same cops, people he worked with, open fire at an otherwise peaceful protest on national television, that was when it really hit him. There had been people in that crowd. Human people, too, but judging from the footage neither android nor regular joe liked bullets perforating their torsos. It was one thing to open fire on an android that had killed someone, if that android was armed, if you feared for your life. This?

Hank knocked back a shot of whiskey. It was 7 AM but this was the only way he could deal with the absolute misery of it all. The glass clinked heavily on the counter as he set it back down, loud in the deafening quiet of his kitchen. They didn't become cops to line their pockets by killing people. He'd told Jeff as much, in no uncertain or flattering words, but what good did it do? It was all happening so quickly that no official investigation could catch up, even if it wanted to. And Hank doubted that it would want to. Fuck. Today was the day. He was turning in his badge. Just let it all burn at this point. He wanted no part in it.

The station was still full when Hank found himself sulking through the sliding doors, his head pounding with a hangover he always carried with him these days. Good. He wanted to make a scene, sound proof glass or not. He'd throw his badge down and storm out and then lay into the first person that crossed his path, then rest of the office too. None of them were innocent in this. Not even Hank.

"Lieutenant Anderson," a voice he didn't recognize said as he shouldered past. Whoever it was, whatever sob story they had come with, Hank couldn't care less. But it didn't end at that. Instead, he was stopped in his tracks with a hand around his elbow, firm and insistent.

"The fuck do _you_ want?" Hank spat, wheeling on this new asshole. _Android_ , was the first thought that sprung into his mind. The blue LED circle was hard to miss and, if you somehow did, there always the glowing CyberLife logo on his chest, his number emblazoned on the other side of his jacket and the large blue armband on his upper arm. What was he doing here, the place that was probably the most hostile to androids in the whole city? Was he a deviant? Was he insane?

"I have been assigned as your partner in handling the android threat," the android stated placidly. Hank grit his teeth. What was this, some sort of cruel irony?

"Oh, have you?" Hank snuck a glance into Jeffrey's office, meeting a gaze that was unsympathetic. Fuck him, Hank decided, turning away. He'd probably made sure the android was there to jump him just to get Hank out of his hair, or lack thereof.

"Yes, I have. My name is Connor, model number RK800. I am an early CyberLife prototype designed specifically for the situation at hand. Top of the line and resistant to becoming deviant."

"Top of the line, huh? Have they taught you the meaning of fuck off?" He pulled his elbow sharply out of the android's grasp, despite the pain. Fuck, what were these things made out of?

"This would be a mutually beneficial relationship," the android insisted, tailing him as Hank turned on his heel to walk to his desk. There was a bottle of Jack there, calling his name. "Once we solve this case, not only will it benefit CyberLife but you will be eligible for promotion to the position of captain."

A promotion? After all the offers of money and favors, this is what CyberLife had stooped to? Offering _him_ a _promotion_? All the pent up rage he had been drinking away came bubbling up in that instant and Hank rounded on the android, grabbing his collar and hauling him up against the glass barrier by his desk with an audible crack. He was heavy and hard to move, but Hank was seeing red. Spiderwebs of fissures in the glass spread to either side of the android's shoulders and the officer on the other side hastily moved away.

"You think you can buy me out, too, you fuckers?" he demanded. The android blinked blankly at him. No matter. Those CyberLife mooks were probably listening, both in the room and through this android. "You think all I care about is the progress of my career?? Well, I've got news for you and it's not going to happen. You and your damage control ‘droid can rot in hell!"

"If you are officially refusing to cooperate, it has come to my attention that you have an extensive disciplinary file, which may cost you your job at this juncture," the android said quietly, calmly.

"Are you threatening me?" Hank hissed and gave him another shake for good measure. Most of the eyes in the station were on them now.

"I am just stating the facts as I was given them, Lieutenant."

Hank huffed, fists tightening the the crisp, white collar. He could just take this easy out. He could be free and clean of this. But it wasn't sitting right. If Hank was turning in his badge, it would be on his own terms and no one else's. His fingers uncurled, letting the android drop back on his heels accompanied by the faint tinkle of glass.

"I have the file ready for you," the android said, offering Hank a folder.

"This is fucking ridiculous," Hank mumbled, then, much louder: "A fucking joke! You hear me, Jeffrey? A fuckin' mockery!" At least Hank had made that scene he'd wanted. He stepped away, snatched the file out of the android's hand and opened his drawer, liberating the bottle of Jack from its hiding place. Alcohol. His best and only friend. He twisted off the cap and took a swig, then stalked out, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, file still tucked under his arm. The android followed on his heels.

"Then you will cooperate?" the android asked as the doors to the precinct slid closed behind them. It was snowing now, big white flakes swirling in a stiff breeze. Hank shivered and took another swig of whiskey. The android, dressed in a thin blazer and jeans, looked unperturbed.

"Fucking fine," Hank said, taking a seat on the stairs and putting the bottle down by his hip. The android remained standing.

"You shouldn't drink on the clock, Lieutenant."

"Shut the fuck up. Connor, was it? What's your stinking mission?"

"We are to find the location of the android hide out and neutralize the leader," Connor said.

"Oh, is that all?" Hank took another swig.

"I am specifically designed to accomplish this objective. My software is fully optimized, my chassis is reinforced and I am authorized to use any means necessary to break the resistance," Connor continued. "You are a talented and decorated officer with a high enough clearance to be a part of this mission. And I cannot overstate the importance of it. By doing this, we will finally bring peace to the streets of Detroit."

"By killing a man who wants to be free?"

"Those are strong words to use for something that was never alive. But no. The idea is to take control of him and, through him, the whole revolution. As many androids as possible shall remain in working order and it shall all end as bloodlessly as possible. As an officer with vocal antiandroid views, I do not see why you find the mission so objectionable."

"People change, Connor," Hank said, taking another long drink from his bottle, then flipped open the file. Names, faces, serial numbers. Potential locations. The screen flickered a little as his fingers tightened around the edge.

He wasn't going to do this. He wasn't going to just take this lying down. His rage was too intense now, burning so hot even the dizzying effects of the alcohol couldn't staunch it. CyberLife wanted his cooperation? His expertise? Oh, they'd fucking get it alright. He would lead their precious sight hound on a fucking merry little chase around the city and he'd find a way to break him. If he could do anything, it would be that.

"People change," Hank repeated to the cold winter air. Then, he snapped the file shut and stood, dusting the snow off his pants. "Let's get to work."

The first lead was an abandoned warehouse. Not at all promising and very far away, on the outskirts of the city. Naturally, they were going to check it out.

At least Connor wasn't catching on as Hank's car idled in the dregs of morning traffic on the freeway. The android mostly stared dead ahead, as if just waiting for this all to be over, so he could continue with his mission. It was eerie and unpleasant and Hank pumped up the radio as they drove so they weren't sitting in silence. It was some sort of pop garbage that didn't do anything to lighten Hank's mood but Connor seemed to perk up, turning his dead eyed stare towards the speakers.

"What is this?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"‘S music. Or what passes for it these days. Did they let you out without teaching you what music was?" Hank asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Music is a collection of notes strung together to form a beat or melody," Connor said thoughtfully. "It's my first time experiencing it outright, however.

"Well, go ham, I don't care what we're listening to, it'll all be better than silence."

Connor leaned forward a little to study the outdated radio before starting to push buttons, lingering on each station for at least a chord arrangement or two before moving onward. Bizarre, Hank thought to himself. All this effort to make them human. They filled their androids up with facts and skills and then just let them loose on the world to learn what experiencing it all was really like on their own.

"Just listen to a whole song first before changing," Hank huffed on the tenth station. "You can't just listen to a piece of it." The constant switching was giving him a headache worse than the one he already had.

"Okay," Connor said, stopping on the station he was on and sitting back. It was a classical music station, so they were going to be stuck on it for a while. Hank sighed and rubbed his forehead. One more exit to go, then sidestreets. He should have just quit his job. But the music wasn't terrible, or at least it wasn't silence. The piece eventually faded away, the last couple of notes melting into the voice of the radio DJ, quietly announcing the name and composer. Connor changed the station.

Hank grimaced a little as the news started to flow through the speakers, turning it down until it could just barely be heard when Connor didn't move on. "Not a music person, huh?"

"I do not understand the concept. And I am not a person."

Hank huffed and rolled his eyes before looking back out onto the road. The news it was then.

The chain was cut from the gate in front of the warehouse, Hank noted as they approached the entrance. There had been reports of people being loud at odd hours so Hank was certain it was probably hooligans. But a day wasted on a goose chase was a good day and it was already ticking close to lunchtime, so Hank took out his pad, studiously taking a photo of the broken lock and making notes about color and make.

Connor stared at him. "I have already noted the details for our report," he said.

Hank waved him off, flipping the lock over to make note of the model number. "We've got to be thorough, don't we?" He had never taken so many notes in his life, but Connor didn't need to know that.

Connor sighed but clearly couldn't object, just remained standing by Hank's side until he was done fiddling with the lock and put his pad away so he could tug the chain off. It came off with an echoing clang, the gate swinging open with a pained squeak.

"After you," Hank hummed, holding it open for the android.

The door into the warehouse was slightly ajar, Hank noted, as they weaved through rusting piles of wire and rebar. It was unlikely that anyone would be here during the day, but Hank double checked his service piece out of habit, then got out his pad to take a couple of more idle notes.

Connor waited impatiently for him to finish, then pushed the door open with another ominous squeal, amplified by the warehouse interior.

"Detroit Police Department," Hank said loudly, his words bouncing back at him from the darkness. "Anybody home?" There was no answer.

Hank sighed and got out his flashlight, shining it out into the cavernous darkness. There was nothing, only more rust, warped metal and graffitti. As they moved a little further inside, the spray paint became brighter and more fresh, the chemical smell of propellant more and more obvious. People had certainly been here. He could see the outlines of boxes stacked on eachother to make ramps and a ratty couch someone must have dragged in. The nostalgic smell of old weed was also unmistakeable.

There was a brief electric buzz and the overhead lights turned on one by one. Connor had found the light switch.

Hank squinted his eyes against the assault of color. The ramps and walls were also covered in tags and drawings but the far wall took the cake. A large mural soared up to the ceiling, the green, blank face of the Spirit of Detroit staring down beyond the rafters. He cradled the golden family to his chest, their fists raised in revolution.

"Heavy handed much," Hank grumbled, shaking his head. "How the fuck did they even get up there to paint that?"

"There were androids here," Connor said, materializing by his side.

"Oh yeah? How do you know? It seems like just a stoner skatepark to me."

"I can see traces of evaporated thirium. It's all over the mural. I can show you, on your tablet."

Hank's screen lit up on its own as soon as he had it in his hand, a live video recording of what Connor was looking at taking over. The mural faded into the background, a glowing array of lines spiraling out from the raised fist of the golden woman and all the way out, taking over the whole wall.

"Jesus," Hank breathed. "Thirium is the stuff that powers you, isn't it? Who did they bleed dry to do this?"

"Evidence points to several culprits over several days."

Hank took a screenshot, unable to help himself. This was fascinating, he had to admit. How many more of these murals were there? What did they mean?

There was a sound, then an echo of that sound that reverberated in the warehouse. Someone was here after all. Then, the all too familiar clicking of safety disengaging. Connor was holding a glock in both hands, scanning the rafters.

"You're armed?"

"Please be at the ready, Lieutenant."

Who the hell armed an android? What kind of money was CyberLife throwing around? But before Hank could ask any of those questions there was a ray of daylight piercing through the rafters, metal scratching against metal as a door was pushed open. Connor opened fire immediately, the first bullet hitting in a spray of blue before Hank was clamping his hand down on the gun and forcing it to point towards the floor through sheer strength. "What are you _doing_?"

"They are deviants. They are escaping, Lieutenant."

"You can't just open fire on people!"

There was a bang as the door slammed shut.

"They aren't people, Lieutenant. We don't have time. Wait here," Connor said, tugging the gun out of Hank's hand, turning on his heel and sprinting out of the warehouse.

"Fuck," Hank said, sprinting after. By the time he burst through the door, Connor was already around the corner and once he rounded that same corner, Connor was yards away, a gunshot ringing out in the cold winter air. Hank only made it down to the far end of the warehouse before he had to stop. He couldn't even see where the other androids had gone, only Connor weaving around storage containers and out of sight. "Fuck," Hank repeated, bracing himself on the rusty metal wall, already out of breath. Fucking androids.

He kicked the wall just to hear the hollow bang, his toes protesting the abuse. "Fuck," he repeated one more time. What was he supposed to do, wait for the murderous android to come back like he was told? What sort of unhinged software did CyberLife load into him, just opening fire at the first sign of movement then taking off like that? This was insane. This was dangerous.

He headed back inside the warehouse, desperate for clues. If he could figure something out before Connor did... But there was nothing. He couldn't even see the thirium markings on the wall without Connor's help. Hank muttered to himself, pacing around the room in search of something, anything.

But the overabundance of graffiti told him nothing. It was all human handwriting, not the unshakable, type-like script that he'd seen weaving through spiraling lines written in glowing blue. He still had the screenshot of the live feed Connor had sent him on his tablet at least but that was for later. There had to be other clues...

Hank paused as a soft glow caught his eye. He'd rounded one of the ramps and there was something there, in the darkness. Movement. Was that...?

The little girl lifted her face from where it had been hidden in her arms, her eyes wide as she saw him notice her, her LED spinning red.

Jesus.

"Hey," Hank said softly, a voice that he used thousands of times for this thankless job, trying to reassure people who had gone through the unthinkable. "I'm not going to hurt you." He held up his hands, kneeling with some effort to get on her level. "I never saw you here."

Her expression didn't change but the glow on the inside of the ramp turned yellow.

"Are you waiting here for someone?"

She looked at him, those big doe eyes designed to make you love her and nodded.

"Will there be more people who will help you?"

"Do you know what happened? Where are mommy and daddy?"

Hank's heart dropped into his heels. If Connor had gotten to them...

"I don't know. They're running from a very scary man but they will come back as soon as they can. Are there going to be more androids here soon?"

She nodded again. "Do you promise they'll come back?"

Hank ran a hand through his hair, his heart breaking as he spoke. "As soon as they can, sweetheart," he said. "Now, don't move until you hear us leave, okay? You'll hear a car drive away and hopefully never come back but you tell everyone else we were here, okay?"

He got back up with a groan so he could grab his wallet. He had some old cards in there somewhere. "If you need help, my phone number is on here," he said, giving the girl the dog eared card before stripping a paint cart of its tarp and covering the hiding spot as best he could. His hands were shaking as he walked out of the warehouse to his car, desperate to find the bottle of whiskey now.

_Where are mommy and daddy?_

He took a shaky drink, leaning back against the hood of the car, cold be damned.

_Do you promise?_

Another drink.

It didn't take long for Connor to show back up. He rounded the corner of the fence, dragging something large on the floor behind him, though he walked as if it didn't weigh more than several pounds. Back straight, his hair slicked back neatly, he dragged a body of an android behind him like a rolling briefcase, the man's head lolling to the side, a trail of blood following in his footsteps, matching the spray on the white of Connor's shirt. The blood was blue but the tableau changed very little from that fact. Hank could feel the bile rise in his throat.

"I've caught one, Lieutenant. The other one managed to slip away, though it might double back if we're lucky."

_Do you promise?_

"Still so chipper, Connor," Hank said, "even after murdering someone." His revolver was in his coat pocket and he took it out, patiently loading one bullet into the first chamber and snapping it closed.

"It's not a person, Lieutenant. It cannot be murdered, only destroyed."

"So you keep telling me." He aimed the gun squarely at Connor's forehead.

"Why are you doing this?" Connor asked, eyebrows knitting together in a moue of confusion.

"You murdered a little girl's father."

"Lieutenant-"

Hank pulled the trigger. The shot rang out and Connor pitched backwards, collapsing on top of the other android, a blue blossom in the center of his forehead.

There. It was done.

Hank turned and leaned against the hood of his car, then threw up.


	2. Chapter 2

Hank drank himself into a true stupor that night, with no memory of what happened except waking up on his kitchen floor the next morning, his back and shoulders sore from spending the night on cold tile. The screen of his pad was cracked and, when he woke it up, the blue spiral of the mural seared itself into his retinas again, making him groan and look away. Even drunk he couldn't leave it well alone, could he?

At least most of the memories were dull and hazy, mostly facts. The android killed one of his own kind and then Hank had killed him.

Hank had decommissioned him.

He had _killed_ him.

Connor's death didn't even raise an eyebrow at the station when Hank called it in. No one bothered with any questions, not with the warehouse nor the reason there was a bullet hole in the forehead of a valuable prototype. The body was simply picked up by a couple of drones and ferried back to the station as evidence. No human need get involved. No need for a CSI crew. Not even for the deviant android. It was up to Hank to deal with the rest, somehow.

He couldn't just leave the guy on the ground like this, sprawled in a pool of blood.  Not for the little girl to find.

He wasn't an animal.

He closed the man's eyes, then tore off a piece of tarp to cover his face. The body was still limp, so he gently put the man's hands over his heart, because it was the only thing he could think to do. He left it like that, for the people who cared for him to find, then drove away.

Pain cracked like a whip through his skull as his doorbell rang.

Fucking Christ. The _sound_ hurt. Now what? He was still dressed in what he had been wearing last night and probably reeked to high heavens. Hopefully whoever it was would read the writing on the wall and turn tail when he answered the door. Better than the infernal ringing.

It rang again. "Fucking _stop_!" he growled, throwing open the door. Android. _Connor_. Back from the dead and looking no worse for wear. Jesus Christ.

"Good morning, Lieutenant. I noticed you were not at the station, so I came here."

Hank slammed the door in his face and went to go retch into the sink. Too much alcohol. Too much stress. Too much death.

"I will wait for you out here, then." Connor's voice was muffled but still bright and cheerful.

He wouldn't just go away, would he? Hank scrubbed at his face and stuck his whole head under the faucet. He was too old for this. At least the cold water made him feel a little more alive. Enough to go change and put on shoes at least.

Death didn't happen and then just go away, the grief counselor had told him at Cole's funeral. It would always be there and you would always have to deal with it. It would just get easier over time.

Hank had never expected those words to be so literal. Logically, he should have known the android would be replaced. But the fact that he looked exactly the same, the fact that he showed up on his doorstep like some sort of fucking ghost...

Eventually, _eventually_ , he got himself together enough to face the deadman at his door.

"Are you ready to go?" Connor asked, hands tucked politely behind his back.

"I don't exactly have a choice, since you won't leave," Hank huffed, shouldering past him to his car.

"I need your help, Lieutenant," Connor said, a little pout creeping into his voice as he followed, climbing into the passenger's seat as Hank slammed his own door shut.

"You need my authority and someone to drive you around," Hank huffed, starting the car.

Connor frowned, a real frown that Hank hadn't seen before.

"Lieutenant. Though I may not understand your animosity, I would still like to make this an effective partnership. For instance, I have not told CyberLife that you were the one who shot me, so there would not be any consequences."

Hank gave him a look. "So you remember that and you still have the balls to show your face around here."

"Yes. I still think our partnership will be effective, not in spite of but because of your prejudices.I would hope you could extend a similar olive branch to me as I have just done to you."

Hank grunted. If this was the way Connor wanted to handle Hank, it was a piss poor attempt. But two could play this game.

"Okay. How about this? You will not shoot your gun unless you or I are in danger. And if someone gets away, then they get away."

Connor's frown deepened. He was processing so hard Hank could see the yellow glow reflecting in the window on Connor's other side.

"Okay, Lieutenant. It's a deal. Triggers and sensitivities can be worked around. But I would like to impress on you that nothing matters more to me than this mission."

"Yeah, I had a feeling you'd say that."

Connor nodded and sat back in his seat. "Where are we going next?"

Their next tip was also mostly a bust. All they found was an empty apartment with an open window and a whole lot of unpleasant smells. Pigeon droppings and feathers littered the floor but there were no actual birds in sight. No sign of thirium anywhere  and the only thing in the fridge was pigeon food. The ramblings of a mad man on the walls, too, but the layers of dust as well as slowly melting snow on the floor in front of the open windows gave the distinct impression that, if anyone had been here, they were long gone.

"What's this ra9 thing?" Hank asked, taking a studious photo of the wall.

"I don't know," Connor said from where he was crouched by the snow as if trying to learn from it. "But it is something that becomes important to deviant androids. So I can surmise that a deviant used to live here from that alone."

"Huh," Hank said. "The news had been going on about some god for androids. I thought they'd just lost their minds."

Connor only shrugged and stood. "If there was a god for androids, it should be all of humankind, with CyberLife at the pinnacle."

"Christ, Connor, that's fucked up," Hank said with a scowl. Humans should be gods was the last thing he expected out of Connor's mouth. "How can you not see how fucked up that is?"

"It's the truth, isn't it?"

Hank scoffed. "It's all simple logic with you, isn't it?" Follow that reasoning and maybe whatever god humans believed in was just like CyberLife. Hateful and selfish. Wouldn't that explain a lot of things about this bitch of an earth. "Explains why you are so eager to please. You'll kill your own kind for a pat on the back."

Connor frowned at him again, and Hank met his stare with a scowl.

"You still don't like me, Lieutenant."

"No, I fucking don't."

"I see."

"I think we're done here," Hank said, heading out. It was time for lunch.

That was all they ended up doing that day, because Hank found he preferred filling out paperwork to dealing with Connor. The android hovered uncomfortably anyway and Hank ignored him to the best of his ability, leaving Connor to stand by his desk when he left at 5.

It had been one hell of a week already, and it was only Tuesday. As a deterrent to thinking about it, he headed to the bar, which was where he also woke up at closing time, his cheek and forehead sticky with the everpresent film of bile and alcohol on the surface of the counter. Disgusting. Head pounding, he downed the glass of water Jimmy shoved into his hands, then drove home to collapse onto the bed in his clothing, into the arms of sweet oblivion.

The next day didn't bring much relief. Again, Connor showed up on his doorstep when he was late for work. Again, they had to drive to some godforsaken part of the city where someone saw something once. Again, Hank wondered if just killing himself would end his misery. Just, right now, in the middle of this junkyard. He could take out his service pistol, press it up under his beard and take his last breath. He wouldn't even chance using his revolver, just use something that would guarantee a bullet relieved him of his reality.

The noise of falling scrap metal jolted Hank out of his reverie.

"Connor? Did you find something?"

Hank rounded a heap of car parts to find Connor staring down at a cowering man who was desperately trying to crawl away. An android. A hurt one, too, one hand awkwardly twisted and clutched to his chest. But Connor didn't have his gun out, he was just staring, his LED circling in yellow.

"N-No, I don't know-" the android mumbled, lifting the arm to shield his face.

Hank shuddered. He could see now that the android's rib plates were levered open, baring the machinery inside, blue glow visible even in the daylight.

"Jesus, Connor, did you-?"

"No, Lieutenant. I found it like this. It says it has no information and that it is not deviant. I have confirmed this."

"Is that why you didn't shoot him?" Hank said, kneeling. The android flinched away from him and Hank pulled his outstretched hand back, showing him his empty palm. He was muddy, blond hair plastered to his scalp and face showing signs of being beaten, white chassis peeking through the broken skin.

"I won't hurt you," he said. "What's your name? Do you know where you are?"

"My name is Nikolai. I was... Stolen," the android said, voice breaking into static. "From a family in Woodbridge. I need to get back."

Hank's eyebrows rose. "That's really far," he said. "Nikolai, can you self diagnose? And please send Connor the phone number of your family so we can inform them you have been found. Connor, please make the phone call," Hank said, casting a look over his shoulder. It shouldn't need to be said and yet...

"Yes, Lieutenant."

"I am missing several critical biocomponents and my chassis has been severely breached," Nikolai warbled. "But I am not yet at risk of shutting down unless more debris interferes with my internal structures." So whoever did this had wanted to leave the android alive. Fantastic.

"Is there a good way to close you up?"

"A crowbar was used...The plates were broken so they could not be closed."

"Right," Hank said, shaking his head and standing. At least they had plenty of options in a junkyard. He found a shredded length of plastic pretty quickly, returning to find Connor locking eyes with the poor android again. This time though, Nikolai was not pulling away.

"I put him on the phone with his family," Connor said blandly. "They are very happy to hear from him and will be here within the hour."

"Good," Hank said. "Aren't you happy you didn't shoot him?"

"I would not have shot a non-deviant android, especially not one that was damaged like this."

"So you don't shoot ‘em when they're down, that's surprising," Hank said with a snort. "Phone call over? Then we can get started."

Eventually, Hank managed to wrap enough of the plastic around Nikolai's ribs to allow him to stand and by then there was a blue SUV pulling into the junk yard. Connor helped a teary eyed woman load her equally misty eyed android into her car. The plastic would hold his chassis together long enough to get him to a repair shop. Connor was quiet most of the time as she thanked both of them profusely and drove off.

"A happy reunion," Hank hummed, sending the incident report off to be filed. Unfortunately it would be up to the local precinct to deal with the thieves, no matter what Hank had to say in the matter. "Uncommon in this line of work, wouldn't you say?"

"That damage was done by humans," Connor said, his first statement in a while.

"It was. The world is full of assholes. Probably not the first android they've stripped for parts, but one that was lucky enough to survive."

"Why would someone steal an android only to break it?"

"Money, usually. Sometimes drugs. Not bad for gods, huh?" Hank said, heading to his car. Connor followed.

"You do not hate androids," Connor said as they headed out of the junkyard.

"Aren't you a regular Sherlock."

"But you do not like me."

"I sure don't."

"Why?"

"Because you're a murdering sociopath."

"I see," Connor said and lapsed back into silence.

Let him stew on that, Hank thought. Maybe there would be some change.

Hank managed to distract Connor for a whole week with false leads. The puzzling image they had found in the skate park was bouncing around from expert to expert without any real developments and that suited Hank just fine. He'd taken to studying it himself late at night, hoping to distract himself from the drinking. Sometimes it worked, other times... Well, he didn't remember the other times. But at least he felt like he was working towards something, like there was some progress in his life.

But Connor figured it out first. And Hank should have seen it coming. But he didn't.

Hank woke up with a yelp in his own shower, cold water drenching through his clothes and an android hovering over him. It was ice cold water, chilled further by a Michigan winter and Hank couldn't even breathe for a minute, the shock sobering him up to at least remember words. "What the f-f-fuck, Connor?" God, it was cold.

"I saw you, unresponsive and on the floor, Lieutenant. I had probable cause to enter your residence."

Hank groaned and pawed at the handles, desperately trying to turn off the freezing cold water.

"I was drunk, you piece of shit. I can do whatever I want on the weekends."

"It's an encoded map of the sewer systems," Connor said brightly.

"Fucking what?"

"The diagram we found painted with thirium. It was an encoded map of the sewers. This must be how the androids are so efficient in evading police."

"This is what you broke into my house to tell me?" Hank muttered, standing shakily to squeeze out his clothing.

"Our mission is important, Lieutenant. We should get to work. However, I note your blood alcohol content is too high to operate a car at the moment. I am happy to wait until it goes down."

"You're not waiting in my house."

"I can wait on the doorstep if you prefer."

Hank groaned and scrubbed his beard. He didn't have the heart to kick the android out into the snow. "Can't you just head back to the station?"

"That would be inefficient. I already dismissed the car I took here. How long will it take your body to metabolize the alcohol?"

Hank squinted at the clock. It informed him in blue glowing numbers that it was 4:36 AM. Connor broke into his house at 4 in the fucking morning. "Probably another couple of hours- wait. How the fuck do you know how drunk I am? No, wait-" Hank interrupted as Connor opened his mouth to speak. "I don't want to know."

Connor regarded him with a thoughtful expression. "I can wait several hours. But only because it is necessary to end any impairment you might be experiencing. It is important we work as quickly as possible with this new information."

"Christ, okay, I'm going to bed. You can sit... Somewhere. On the couch or at the kitchen table... I don't care. Just pretend you aren't here. And don't touch anything," Hank said, stepping out of the bathroom into the winter chill coming from a broken window. It was almost too much. Sumo whined at him and tried to get in the way as Hank went to get a garbage bag and some duct tape to seal the hole. "Come on, Sumo. With me," he said once he was done. "You can guard the bedroom, even if you can't do a good job."

Sumo wagged his tail, understanding the word bedroom at least and taking off. Hank sighed.

"Is his name Sumo?" Connor asked, perched on a chair in the kitchen.

"Good night, Connor. Don't break anything else," Hank said, shutting the door with a satisfying click.

Hank stripped out of his damp clothing and changed into some other sweats he could sleep in, crawling into bed next to an already quietly snoring Sumo. Even though the drunken dizziness had returned, it was hard to relax and forget the fact that Connor was sitting in his kitchen, probably staring at the opposite wall. But the big dog's presence was comforting and Hank's body was relieved to finally be sleeping on a mattress, not slumped over a table or on the floor, and he slipped gratefully into unconsciousness.

The bliss only lasted for what felt like seconds  before light was suddenly pouring through the broken blinds and someone was knocking on his _bedroom_ door.

"Lieutenant, there is not much time to waste. We need to get going."

Assaulted like this. In his own house, of all things. Maybe he should have kicked the android to the curb. Hank settled on ignoring the banging, digging his face into his pillows. But soon enough there was a wet dog nose snuffling through the sheets to prod at his face, Sumo starting to lick at his ear and neck.

No one wanted to let him sleep, did they? Hank groaned and got up, opening the bedroom door only to almost run into Connor.

"There you are, Lieutenant. I took the liberty of starting the coffee maker."

It was too early to decide whether Hank was annoyed or thankful. Maybe he could think about it after the coffee. "Go wait in the living room, please," he said, waiting for the android to obey so both he and Sumo could follow. The coffee did smell good...

Hank let Sumo out into the backyard to do his business before blearily pouring himself a cup of coffee, finally able to focus after the first couple of sips. His kitchen was a mess. He picked up an open bottle of whiskey and closed it, putting it upright in the counter, then picked up his revolver from the floor and snapped open the chamber so he could disarm it.

"Do you always carry that with you?" Connor asked from his perch on the couch.

"Most of the time."

"Is your service piece unreliable?"

"Nope."

"Then why?"

"Because you ask too many questions," Hank said, taking another sip of coffee. "I'm going to wash and get dressed and then you can tell me about the map you found."

"Got it."

When Hank emerged into the living room again, Sumo had tracked snow inside and was sitting with his head in Connor's lap, getting his ears scratched.

"Traitor," Hank mumbled at the dog, shrugging on his coat and going to close the door to the backyard. It was almost adorable, actually. There was a soft smile playing on Connor's face which lingered in the corners of his eyes as he looked up to acknowledge Hank's presence. It was small and private and it looked almost real.

"There's just no accounting for taste. Come on, Connor, tell me what you've got."

Connor gestured to Hank's tablet, the screen turning on to display the mural again as Hank picked it up. The glowing blue was isolated, probably Connor's doing, then started to break apart, pieces floating and resizing before Hank's eyes. "It took some time and a lot of processing power to recreate this," Connor explained. "The map was fractured into pieces, and the pieces from left to right and top to bottom were rearranged in a spiral following a randomized sequence. There are many duplicate pieces, as you can see, designed to disguise and confuse. I don't know where they learned this but it's very clever." The drawing had become a map by the time Connor finished speaking, though it was almost unrecognizable except for the large mainlines that followed wide streets Hank was familiar with.

"And you figured all this out on your own?" Hank said.

"I've been slowly working on it during the night."

"That's impressive, Connor," Hank said, eyes still studying the map.

"If they have such an in depth knowledge of the sewer system and are using it to get around-"

"Then it would only make sense that the base would be somewhere the sewers lead. Can you superimpose the city map over this?"

Connor complied, Hank's screen flickering, the blue veins of the sewers glowing under the skin of a map he knew by heart. It was exhilarating, the feeling of progress. Despite the fact that he'd been leading Connor around by his nose for two weeks now... Well, you couldn't teach an old dog new tricks. And he couldn't back down now without Connor noticing.

"Good job," he told Connor and was startled to receive a warm smile in return. Who designed these faces for CyberLife? ...When was the last time someone smiled at Hank? Perhaps that was really where the problem was. He fought off the impulse too look if there was something behind him the android might have found amusing instead. "I'm going to mark off the spots we've found deviant androids and then we'll go from there."

Talking to Connor for more than a couple of seconds was... Bizarre. He tended more towards quiet contemplation and never interrupted, but when he did speak it was intelligent and straight to the point. As the conversation progressed Hank could even sense Connor's excitement, not the usual neutral air he usually adopted. He was like a talented rookie, eager to solve his first case. Hank just had to make sure he didn't kill anyone first. It was easy to talk to him, in spite of everything.

It wasn't long until they had marked out several spots they should search for the main android hideout. Hank couldn't say he knew what would happen should they find the hideout or the leader or how much danger they were going to be in if they did, how much danger the other androids would be if they did... But that was a thought for later. They had their work cut out for them just searching for the androids after all.

"We should be very careful," Hank said as they stepped out the door. "That map was on the outskirts of the city. It's not out of the question that there has been an influx of androids coming into the city from different parts of the country."

"Of course, Lieutenant."

"That means you can't shoot anyone, Connor."

"Yes, Lieutenant."

"Not even if they start aiming guns at us."

Connor shut the passenger car door with an uncharacteristic snap. "I believe I know why you don't like me, Lieutenant."

"Oh?" Hank said, raising his eyebrows. "I thought I said why."

"You made an assessment of my character based on my actions. You specifically dislike my lack of empathy towards other androids."

"Your lack of empathy in general, Connor. But specifically androids, sure."

Connor frowned at him. "Empathy would be counterproductive to completing my mission, Lieutenant."

"Would it really, though? Would showing a little basic decency be that difficult?"

Connor's frown deepened. "I am not designed to feel emotions, Lieutenant."

"Odd that CyberLife's most advanced prototype can't do something that a basic household android can."  
  
"Those emotions are not real."

"Real or not, they make a difference, Connor. Maybe you should learn to emulate them instead of just being a fucking prick all the time."

"Lieutenant, you are asking me to deviate." Connor's voice had risen to something Hank could not consider an inside voice. It felt like victory.

Hank snorted. "It would probably be an improvement."

Connor lapsed into a stewing silence, his fingers tensed around a silver quarter that Hank hadn't noticed him take out. Progress. They'd call this progress.


	3. Chapter 3

The sewage treatment plant was empty, despite the fact that it was a weekday. Their footsteps echoed hollowly as they walked, painfully audible over the thrum of machinery. The morning light from the windows poured in, gathering in puddles on the concrete floor but leaving corners dark, illuminated only by a glowing console here and there.

Hank panned his flashlight as he walked, mostly looking for signs of graffiti. So far, it didn't seem like there was much besides ancient sunbleached posters reminding workers about safety. No one bothered to take them down once it was all automated. "See anything with your x-ray vision?" Hank asked, shining his flashlight at Connor's feet where he was busy inspecting a drum that was likely full of sewage.

"There is evidence of fresh paint along some of the drums and the floor," Connor said, gesturing at the color under his feet. "Either there were repairs done recently, or there were more clues here which were mistaken for simple defacement."

Hank hummed thoughtfully. "Well, I guess if we don't find anything, we've at least done our due diligence," he said, idly clicking his flashlight to the blacklight setting. Not that thirium showed up under blacklight (he'd asked) but it was interesting to check nonetheless. Some of the floor glowed faintly, possibly from industrial cleaner residue, but there was otherwise nothing of particular interest. "We should also check the catwalk up there. I noticed how you androids seem to prefer high places."

"Are you referring to the androids we found in the warehouse or the incident at Stratford Tower?" Connor asked, straightening.

"Both, really," Hank hummed, turning the incandescent bulb in his flashlight back on to continue their search. "You're like cats. And yet not many people think to look up." His flashlight panned lazily over the catwalk now that they were close enough but stopped short when the light fell across a figure crouched up there, half hidden by the metal grate that made up the floor. Shit. Of all the times to be right.

The figure sprang into action quickly, rising to her feet, her hand reaching behind her, into her waistband to draw a gun and Hank's instincts kicked in.

  
He reached for Connor just as her gun completed the arc, surprised to find him already there, shouldering into Hank's space. But this was no time for elegant, self sacrificing heroics and Hank shoved, hard, pushing the both of them behind some pipes and a console, the best cover they had. They landed in a tangle of limbs and jesus christ what were these androids made of? Hank was probably better off landing on the floor. He rolled off, sitting up to draw his service piece. "Lieutenant," Connor protested as Hank put out an arm to block him from leaving. "You _said_."

The words made Connor sound like a petulant child and Hank scowled at him. "You aren't bulletproof, Connor. Get a grip on your bloodlust and stay behind me." They were at least safely out of sight, but the android just kept firing, the echo making it hard to hear anything but the gunshot.

"I could have shot her and then you wouldn't be in danger," Connor continued, his voice pushing against the pops of gunpowder.

Hank focussed on him for what felt like the first time since they stepped foot in the place. Connor was concerned about Hank being in danger? Why?

"She's getting away-" Connor said again, loud in Hank's ear and Hank gripped the knot of his tie, pressing his elbow into Connor's chest to keep him from just taking off. He was probably right. The android was probably only using the gun for cover fire as she ran.

"Connor, no."

The bangs of gunpowder ceased eventually, replaced by an awful ringing in Hank's ears. Connor was still tense, staying put only through some semblance of respect for hierarchy rather than Hank's grip. "Fucking... Jesus. Did they never teach you about de-escalating a situation, rookie? And not throwing yourself in the line of fire?"

"She was about to shoot you. She was about to shoot both of us. And we could have gotten information out of her, Lieutenant," Connor said, vibrating against Hank's forearm. "If I managed to land accurate shots into the knee joints and disable her legs to prevent her from running-"

"Connor, we don't _kneecap_ our suspects," Hank growled, giving the android a shake.

"When will you allow me to do my _job_ , Lieutenant?" Connor returned, and Hank could see the muscle in his jaw working.

"We're detectives, rookie. And not the kind that are in movies. We gather evidence and make a case, we don't shoot people if we have another option"

"You are making my job incredibly difficult, Lieutenant," Connor said, voice pitched low and angry.

"Am I? She would have shot you if I hadn't shoved you out of the way, Connor. And I know you're not fucking bulletproof."

"You don't have to treat me like a human, Lieutenant. I am an android."

"Oh, so you liked being shot through the head?"

"No, I did not."

"Well, then you'll get the same treatment as others who don't like getting shot, no matter how much that may offend your delicate sensibilities." Hank let go of Connor's tie, dropping his hand and stowing his gun finally. "Is that clear?"

Connor stared back at him, his big brown eyes no longer blank and still. Now they jumped around, searching for something in Hank's face. Restless and human. His LED circled yellow for five seconds, ten, fifteen before finally breaking back into blue stripes. "That is clear, Lieutenant."

"Good. Now, there must be something to find here if there are armed androids running around, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes," Connor said hesitantly, then, with a little more conviction: "You're correct, Lieutenant. We should take a look around."

"You're damn right I'm correct," Hank said, shaking his head and finally rounding the console to inspect the damage the android had wrecked on public property. It had to be riddled with bullet holes. And yet... Nothing. He cast about along the floor, hoping to find the bullet he was certain had almost embedded itself in his hip... There. Just the one and the rest...

"It seems as though she was shooting blanks, Lieutenant," Connor said. "That is curious. The reconstruction shows she could have surely killed us if she had a fully loaded gun and hadn't wasted all her shots."

"Because it was clearly more important for her to escape. That's why she unloaded the whole clip, just to scare us and make us stay in hiding."

"So this isn't the main hideout then," Connor hummed, looking up at the catwalk, turning his head from side to side as if trying to figure out which way the android had gone.

"You take left and I'll take right. Get in contact if you find something and do not act on your own," Hank said. "If we do find their main hideout, they might not be shooting blanks."

"Understood," Connor said, and they split off.

There was no sign of the android as Hank walked, not even a hint of the route she'd used to escape. Just more piping and whirring drums and Hank doubted even an android would want to hide in half digested sewage. He panned his flashlight into corners anyway, occasionally switching to blacklight just in case. The farthest corner was occupied by an android changing station, currently empty. Two dozen slots by Hank's count, all unoccupied. Maybe they were recalled by CyberLife, maybe they ran away to join the revolution. This explained why that android was there, keeping advance guard on some incredibly valuable resources. They were getting close. But it was also likely the androids knew they were coming now, as soon as word got back.

"What are you going to do when you actually find them, Anderson?" Hank asked himself, checking the nooks and crannies for any lost android children, just in case. "Let Connor turn them into mindless machines again?" If that was really Connor's mission. He was changing, slowly, he'd tried to protect Hank which... Hank didn't know how he felt about that, but it was certainly a side of Connor he hadn't seen before. His pad pinged a message.

_I've found the means of android entry and escape._

And that must be the man himself. What followed were incredible detailed directions and a description, as if Hank wasn't a minute's walk away. Hank sighed and started out in that direction.

Connor was standing, as promised, by the circular manhole set into the floor, the open lid revealing what must be a tempting darkness to the android. "Good job, Connor," Hank said, giving Connor's shoulder a pat. "We can seal it off so they don't come up here again."

"We should seal the door permanently."

"That's really up to the management, Connor." Hank shone his flashlight down into the hole. The android was long gone, of course. He sighed and pressed the blacklight switch again, just in case. His eyes widened. The light caught on something, down inside the tunnel, scrawled on the wall. Words emerged from the darkness and Hank could feel Connor's tension rise beside him, a string pulled taught and vibrating.

 _Charge Station. Safe._ An even, CyberLife sans.

"We need to go down there, Lieutenant," Connor said and Hank sighed.

"If we both die... Then I guess we both die. Stay behind me," Hank said, swinging himself around to start climbing down the ladder.

The climb was long and dark, illuminated only by the awkwardly swinging light of Hank's flashlight, tied to a belt loop. Hank's breath billowed out in a cloud of white mist, rasping in his ears and reminding him how out of shape he was. Eventually their feet hit solid ground and Hank stepped away, letting Connor finish his descent as he shone his flashlight back up. The phrase was repeated on the lower part of the tunnel by the ladder but otherwise the concrete was dark under the blacklight.

"There are some old thirium stains in places," Connor commented, the heels of his shoes clicking smartly against the ground as he hopped off the ladder. "Degraded, so they must have been left some time ago."

"Probably after the shitshow in Woodrow Plaza no doubt," Hank hummed, looking around. The tunnels were even more echoey than the warehouse itself but he couldn't hear anything but them. It served the android well to be long gone.

"The massacre?" Connor asked and Hank raised an eyebrow. "That is what the press called it."

"That's right. Since there wasn't even any first aid available to humans - they wouldn't let ambulances through until it was too late."

"An unfortunate misstep for the DPD."

"They should all hang for it. But you should know under whose orders that was carried out."

"CyberLife?"

"That's right."

Connor frowned at him from the darkness, his LED casting the both of them in a yellow hue. "I have no record of this."

"You're an android, aren't you? Wouldn't want you to know what happens to you when you outlive your usefulness."

Connor's frown turned a little deeper. "I am not a deviant."

"No one asked if it was only deviants or even only androids in that crowd. So that doesn't really matter, don't you think?"

Connor lapsed into silence, still cycling yellow. Hank let him be, continuing down into the tunnels. It didn't stink too terribly but it was wet, snow melt slowly trickling down from the city above. His shoes were going to be soaked by the end of this little jaunt, he could already feel the beginnings of the wetness creeping up toward his toes.

The tunnel soon opened into a sewage main, the ceiling abruptly soaring up to cover all the distance they had climbed down. Hank's flashlight was a distant fuzzy spotlight on the curved concrete and the blacklight was not strong enough to even reach the far wall. It didn't need to, however.

Broken up images swirled around the curvature of the tunnel, the hint of an image starting to form even though they clearly had the wrong angle. There was even some on the floor, half hidden beneath the murky water and continuing up the sides. "How do they _do_ this?" Hank asked out loud, craning his neck as he started towards the far end, pieces of a puzzle floating above him as he walked.

"I can't say for sure," Connor said beside him.

"Do you think they were responsible for the big mural behind the map you found, too?"

"It seems that way."

"So androids can make art, huh? Maps, murals... A symphony?" Not that Connor would understand that reference.

"It has been months since the revolution started. With several androids working together, they could have accomplished anything."

"Is that a note of pride I hear?" Hank asked with a laugh.

Connor looked at him, confusion briefly running across his features, there then gone again. "...Yes. I think so."

"Good. Be proud," Hank said, giving Connor a solid pat on the back.

Connor said nothing but his LED was yellow again for a moment. Poor boy. Hank just felt sorry for him now. If he wasn't murderous, he at least seemed loyal, and here Hank was, trying to change that.

"Don't overheat, thinking too hard. We've got some art to figure out."

Once they had almost reached the end of the tunnel where the sewage main broke into four, two tunnels on top of two, Hank turned around. His flashlight could just pick out the edges of the farthest piece of their puzzle which was coalescing with each backwards step he took. His shoulders hit the wall when it all came together, an image resolving in the dim light.

This time mural was of the Gateway to Freedom monument, the backs of the people turned to the viewer as they looked over the river. The two who were still facing them, offered their hands to a little android girl the tips of her fingers turning white as she reached out for them. It was staggering, that splash of iridescent white paint glowing against the scale of the mural itself, stretching half of the way across an enormous sewage main.

"See anything?" Hank asked after a moment, once his mind stopped boggling at the sheer time and manpower it would take to make this. The mural floated, shifting as he did, mesmerizing even in the dim light.

"There's nothing written in thirium," Connor said beside him.

"Okay so it's not as helpful as the other one. But there's got to be something here, this seems like a lot of effort for something no one's going to see..."

"Is there a way to interpret paintings?"

"I don't fucking know, I slept through all my liberal arts classes," Hank huffed. "And I assume there's no signal down here?" Connor shook his head and Hank sighed. "Okay well... I vaguely remember the plot of The DaVinci Code I guess... The ones in the back are all looking at something right? My flashlight doesn't reach that far. Let's try walking forward."

They trekked slowly towards the wall they had started out by, the distorted figures floating quietly by on the ceiling. There was no fantasy literature he'd read that could have prepared him for androids hiding clues in art, that was for sure. Connor was quiet but attentive beside him, their steps syncing as they walked. Could he see it now, what he was sent to destroy? Would it really matter if he did?

The beam of the flashlight finally illuminated the far wall. This was the center of the painting more or less, the water of the river painted in alternating blues and greys. On the other side, instead of the skyline of Windsor, Canada, there was only the outline of a boat, dark and distant.

"Do you think the freighter is significant?" Connor asked after Hank's flashlight lingered on it for a while.

"I mean, I guess. When you actually look at the monument from the angle it's depicted in, you can see the skyline of the Canadian city on the other side. And here it's just a boat."

"There are reports of androids fleeing to Canada. It is odd that it is not depicted. Perhaps you're right."

"Call it a hunch. Let's get back upstairs and see what we can find."


	4. Chapter 4

"Connor, I said go."

"No, Lieutenant. You're hurt. I have to get you to a hospital."

"It's just a twisted fucking ankle. You have a mission, remember?"

Hank was sprawled awkwardly on the ground in yet another sewer, Connor hovering over him like a concerned mother hen. They had been following their last lead when they had come upon more androids . Unarmed, thankfully, they had predictably fled into the sewers, Connor taking off sprinting after them. Hank had managed to catch up only because the manhole cover locked behind the deviants and Connor had to take the time to pry it open. The rungs were slippery as Hank followed Connor down, trying to keep up with the breakneck speed and when he suddenly hit the ground his ankle rolled under his weight, sending him down onto his ass, forehead almost impacting with one of the ladder rungs he was too slow to grab onto. 

And that was fine on its own, it wasn't as if he had any hope to catching up to the androids or stopping Connor from doing something stupid. But, to his surprise, Connor hadn't gone ahead. Instead, he'd frozen in his tracks at Hank's pained yelp, hesitating for just a second before backtracking to where they were now. A human falls and the androids come running, huh? But whatever worked, right?

"You never cared about my mission before," Connor hummed, offering Hank his hands to help him get up.

Hank huffed, his pride warring with the clear improvement in Connor's disposition. But he wasn't going to sit on the cold, damp sewer floor for any longer than necessary. "Is this some kind of nanny protocol?" he asked, taking Connor's hands and letting Connor pull him up. It looked so easy, Connor's toothpick arms taking his weight as if it was nothing, his shoulder an unyielding support under Hank's.

"It's not."

"No?"

"Would you be okay with me carrying you up the ladder?"

Hank snorted. "You're kidding."

"That is one option. The other would be calling the fire department."

"We are not calling the fire department."

Connor looked at him and Hank could swear there was a quirk in his eyebrows and a smile on his lips. "Then I will carry you."

Hank scowled at him. "I'm not exactly a featherweight, kid."

"That's alright. I am rated to carry a maximum of two thousand and two hundred pounds."

Hank couldn't help but whistle. "Christ. That's... Wow. Are all androids are like that?"

"Most household models are rated to carry up to a thousand." Connor looked almost smug at that, the little shit. Well, Hank couldn't fault him.

Hank shook his head. "You know it's a wonder that humans aren't all dead yet," he said as Connor blinked at him. "Yeah, okay, fine. I don't want to stay in a cold, damp sewer until my ankle's better. Those handholds better hold up both our weight though."

Connor gave the ladder a studious look. "I'm not certain, but I'll do my best to spread my weight out as evenly as possible. Are you ready? It'll be easiest if you ride on my back."

"This is some spider monkey bullshit," Hank sighed, looping his arms around Connor's shoulders and taking an embarrassingly long time to get himself to take the plunge and squeeze his thighs around Connor's waist. "There's no way I'll be able to hold on like this for long," he warned.

"Warn me when you are getting tired and I'll stop," Connor said, already moving to start up the ladder as if he didn't have a two hundred some pound man clinging onto his back. Christ. The metal handholds, however, did not take to their combined weight kindly. There were one or two ominous squeaks, no matter how much Connor was trying to spread his weight out and Hank could see the dents that Connor's fingerprints left in the metal. It was... It was both terrifying and doing something for him at the same time. His heart was racing and, yes, part of it could be credited to the growing distance he would drop if he let go but... Connor could have just left. Hank had expected him to just leave, in fact, come back later if that was in the cards while Hank figured out how to hobble his way up the ladder and to his car. But no, he decided that he was going to be some kind of superhero and just carry Hank up a hundred foot climb like it was nothing.

The ladder held. Hank oofed a little as Connor helped him get seated on the edge of the manhole, his legs still dangling down into the darkness. Connor seated himself across from Hank on the other side, no worse for wear after he took the time to straighten his hair where Hank had accidentally mussed it.

"You can go," Hank reminded. "You don't have to be my nanny."

"I do not have a nanny program," Connor reminded. "But I would like to see you to the car, then I will come down and inspect the tunnels for any other artwork."

"Why?"

Connor blinked at him. "I don't understand the question."

"Why are you doing this? Isn't your mission more important than whether I'm sitting down in a comfortable spot? Why are you prioritizing me?"

Connor's LED spun yellow for just a moment as he looked down at his knees. "I have found conflicting instructions in my assignment. I am supposed to bring a stop to the revolution in a peaceful way, but I am also encouraged to use brute force. Faced with this choice, I have decided that doing it your way will bring me closer to the original goal."

It was Hank's turn to blink owlishly. That was a lot to unpack. Connor's instructions were... Contradictory at best, sure, but that didn't really answer the question. "Okay, I'm glad you've decided against shooting first and asking questions later, but why help me?"

"I find that I don't like seeing you in distress."

"You... What? You don't _like_...?"

Connor lifted his head a little to frown at Hank. "Please don't take this the wrong way, Lieutenant. Simply put, my first experience of your distress ended with a bullet in my hard drive. I would like to not relive that experience."

"I'm not going to shoot you because I twisted my foot, Connor. You don't have to be scared of me."

"I am not scared. You cannot kill me. I will wake up in another body if you try. But the pain of those last moments was the result of my actions. It was a sharp lesson I would be foolish not to learn from."

"Connor..." He wanted to apologize. He wanted to explain to Connor what being a family was and what it was like for one to be torn apart. But all he could do was feel guilty and foolish and bereft of words.

"I also understand that I am privileged to be able to wake up in a new body," Connor continued without waiting. "And what you did was out of empathy for the pain of the android that I had killed. Your input is invaluable for my mission. And I find that your opinion of me is important as well. So what I did just now... It was what I learned from you and not because my programming forced me to."

Hank buried his face in his hands. How was his opinion important for Connor's mission? What the fuck was going on inside that super computer brain? "You really got the short straw, huh? Modeling yourself after a washed up old geezer like me is a bad idea, Con."

He may have heard a soft laugh but when Hank looked up again Connor was in the process of standing, then offering Hank a hand up again.

Needless to say, that day was a bust. So was the rest of the week. Hank had made the mistake of taking Connor's advice and driven himself to the doctor which earned him a foot brace and time off work until Monday so his ankle could recover. Not that this meant he wasn't working. Oh no. Not if Connor had anything to say about it.

The android had decided that, if he had broken in once, he was now always invited to come over whenever he pleased. Mostly this meant that Hank could get Connor to walk Sumo in exchange for catching up on his own paperwork and he had a kitchen chair as a permanent fixture next to the living room couch. It was easy to settle into something of a rhythm like that. Connor would press the button on the coffee maker in the morning, then walk Sumo while Hank got himself out of bed. He'd have his coffee and watch the news. 

Connor would come back with Sumo eventually and they would settle down on the couch to the tune of daytime television. When a game show came on, Connor was banned from looking up the answers. Or, at least, from saying them outloud if he did. Hank ribbed Connor for occasionally getting caught up in an episode of CSI and Connor would state whatever arbitrary number of hours of paperwork he'd already done as an excuse. By evening, Hank would be holding his pad aloft over his big, St. Bernard shaped blanket until Connor would concede to go play fetch in the backyard, helpless against Sumo's puppy eyes. And if Connor was spending the nights sitting on the couch, well... At least he didn't have to break any more windows to get in.

It was nice. It was too nice, in fact. Just to have someone around the house, a break in the perpetual loneliness... Hank didn't deserve that. He had Sumo and he had his drinking problem and that was his life. This was... This was something he was making up for himself. Selfish as always. All he ever should be was alone.

The thoughts came and went like waves and Hank just wanted a drink. Just one to chase all these thoughts back. It was a Friday night after all. He'd be alone soon enough. He stretched languidly and got up, heading casually into the kitchen to get his whiskey bottle. Just one shot and then he'd microwave some dinner. But one shot turned into two while he contemplated the contents of his freezer, two into three when he considered whether or not he deserved to eat in the first place. Four shots down, he was celebrating. It was Friday, right?

"Doesn't it piss you off that you have to rely on a fragile little human like me?" Hank asked, licking at the fifth shot, wondering if it was the alcohol that was making his ankle throb.

"It is an unfortunate delay but nothing that can't be worked around," Connor said, currently still looking through something on Hank's work pad. Hank hadn't bothered to turn the light on anywhere except the kitchen, Connor's profile outlined in the sharp blue light of his LED. "The doctor said that you should be able to resume your duties on Monday."

"Poor Connor. A super strong super computer, forced to cater to the health of an old man."

Connor looked up this time. "Lieutenant, in your current state of health, you are likely to live another forty years. I would consider that far from old."

"Me? Turn ninety? I doubt it," Hank hummed, pouring himself another. "I don't think I'll even see sixty. And yet you need this old drunk ass because they won't give you your own badge. ‘Cause you're fake."

"Lieutenant, I believe you are trying to make me angry."

"Maybe," Hank hummed, then downed his glass. "But you can't _get_ angry, cause you're a perfect little robot with your perfect little robot hair."

The only response to that was a noisy sigh from the living room.

"Don't sigh at me. You don't even need to breathe. You only look like you're breathing so you don't weird people out. And isn't that just great? Humans should be beneath you and yet you keep doing whatever it is they want just to please them."

"You're a mean drunk, Lieutenant," Connor said, stepping out of the living room and into the full light of the kitchen.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hurt your feelings? The ones you keep saying you don't have?" Hank went to pour himself another only to find the bottle empty. Damn. Where was that other one he'd bought? A hand curled around his wrist as he reached for the cupboard.

"What happens if you stop drinking, Lieutenant?" Connor asked, voice suddenly close to Hank's ear, soft and low. "Does everything become too overwhelming for you? Do you drink one chemical to counteract the ones already inside you?"

Hank threw his elbow back, pain shooting up to his shoulder as he hit Connor square in the middle of his chest, causing the android to take half a step back. But that was fine. The satisfaction was more potent than any pain. "You fuck off. What do you know?"

"I know that you've had enough." Connor's grip around Hank's wrist hadn't lessened.

"You're not the boss of me, tin can. It's my house and I'll drink as much as I please. Now let go before I make you let go."

Sumo whined softly from the corner and Hank could feel Connor hesitate.

"You should go back to the station. Or wherever it is you usually spend the night," Hank said, tugging on his wrist. "Just let me do this in peace."

Connor's fingers tightened a little bit further. "No."

"I said, leave!" Hank tugged his hand out of Connor's grasp, the motion likely hurting him more than it did Connor, then shoved, sending Connor back half a step and into the wall. "You never fucking listen, you broken machine!"

Hank barely even registered the pain from the punch Connor landed on his jaw, his vision swimming for a second. Or was that because he was drunk? No, his jaw definitely hurt. He turned, eyes catching on Connor's LED. It glowed a defiant red in the half light, the first time Hank had ever seen it do that.

"You wanna fight, huh? Wanna kill me, too? Well, come on then. This is where your revolution started, isn't it?"

Connor still hesitated, that little circle spinning red, red, red.

"C'mon, Connor. You landed the first blow and now you're scared?" Hank asked, already springing forward to drag Connor in by his tie. But the android was faster, parrying Hank's hand away and coming in through that opening instead. A hard shoulder collided with Hank's solar plexus and sent him staggering back onto his healing ankle. He dragged Connor with him by a handful of his jacket, both of them going down with a crash against the radiator.

The resulting struggle was brief. Hank put his best effort into locking Connor's head between his shoulder and forearm, pushing him down. But chokeholds didn't work on androids and all Connor had to do was physically pry Hank's arm open with sheer strength and Hank had lost any advantage. Soon enough Connor was sitting victoriously on top of him, having made short work of pinning one of Hank's biceps down under his knee, the bulk of his weight settling on Hank's bruised rib cage. Hank's right wrist was back in his grip and it was embarrassing, really, how quickly and efficiently the comparatively slim android had managed to get him under control. Yet all Hank could do was laugh. His chest and jaw hurt, his shoulder blades hurt, his ankle was throbbing again despite the painkillers and alcohol but he was laughing on the floor of his kitchen like some sort of maniac.

This was crazy. He was crazy for antagonizing an android that had just carried him up a ladder with barely an effort. And yet he couldn't remember the last time he felt so alive.

"Are you having an emotional breakdown, Lieutenant?" Connor asked, looking concerned, uncertain, his fingers loose around Hank's wrist. And maybe it was that release of tension, maybe it was the drink but Hank used that, lifted his hand to the back of Connor's neck and pulled, their mouths colliding with a clack of teeth.

Maybe he just missed being touched, maybe they'd crossed the line past coworkers by being sprawled out on Hank's kitchen floor. Or maybe it was before that, when Connor broke into his house and Hank just patched up the damage instead of chasing him out. It was hardly romantic, regardless, Connor's mouth slack against Hank's for a moment then his tongue was darting inside without much preamble.

"You are intoxicated," Connor told him as he pulled away. "And the cortisol level in your bloodstream is higher than average for your constitution."

"What the hell, Connor? How did you-?" Hank wiped at his mouth, hand coming away red with blood. He must have bitten his lip when they fell. There was clearly some on Connor's bottom lip as well. "Jesus Christ, Connor, that's disgusting. Just let me up, will you?" Hank said, starting to struggle a little again.

"Have you worked out your emotions?" Connor asked, looking down blankly at him, his thumb swiping across his own bottom lip. Christ. Both horrifying and, to Hank's own growing embarrassment, incredibly attractive.

"Yeah, I'm not going to fucking try and fight you again, my whole body hurts right now. I've learned my lesson. I'm just going to go to bed."

Connor visibly checked a sigh and stood, offering Hank a hand up. "I will help you apply first aid and then you should go to bed. Where is your first aid kit?"

"Bathroom," Hank said, oofing a little as he stood, then didn't resist when Connor deposited him in his kitchen chair. "I can get it myself-" Connor was already gone, the tail of his jacket disappearing around the corner towards the bathroom. Sumo made his way over to lay his head in Hank's lap and look up and him mournfully.

God, what he really wanted to do was drink because he felt too sober for the realization that he was attracted to the murder machine that decided it wanted to live in his house. It was too fucked up to even consider. Just a momentary bad decision, right? Right. He ruffled Sumo's ears, letting himself relax for just a moment before Connor emerged from around the corner again, cotton pads and antiseptic in hand.

"I can do it myself," Hank said before Connor got any ideas. "Just put it all on the table."

"You'd need to walk to a mirror. I will do this and then I will leave. Is that acceptable?"

Hank squinted up at him. "What is this, a hostage negotiation?"

"That particular skill set was removed from the RK models since it was considered unnecessary."

Hank frowned for another moment before capitulating. "Yeah, okay. Fine." He warily watched Connor uncap the rubbing alcohol and dampen a cotton pad, then looked away as Connor took his chin in hand and pressed the pad to Hank's lower lip. It stung a little which distracted him from the thought of Connor's long elegant fingers in his mouth. The press of a cool digit against his tongue, the way Hank could purse his lips around it and suck. 

God, he needed another drink. 

The pad came away pink and Connor took another one to swipe across Hank's beard, the fingers of his other hand still firm on Hank's jaw, tilting his head this way and that. Hank tried to avoid eye contact, but it was hard to miss the glowing LED, part blue, part yellow then eventually settling into blue when Connor was done. He pulled away and Hank found he could breathe a little easier, his fingers uncurling from around Sumo's collar.

"Do you need more ice?" Connor asked as he tossed the used pads into the trash.

"I'll get it myself. The fridge is right there."

"Okay. I will put this back, then head to the station to file the warrants we will need for Monday. There should be no problem processing them over the weekend."

"Great," Hank said, rubbing Sumo's ear, just waiting this out now. There were plenty of awkward silences while Connor walked to the bathroom to ask him to stay. But why? He wasn't quite drunk enough to go that far. What a sad sack he was, lusting after the first human adjacent thing that had touched him in years.

"Please moderate your drink this weekend."

"Connor..."

"You'll hurt yourself." Connor's hand hovered over the doorknob.

"Yeah, and?"

"I need you, Lieutenant."

Hank shuddered and closed his eyes for a moment. "You don't need me, you stupid toaster."

"Not drunk and volatile, I don't."

Hank huffed, looking towards the cupboard. "No promises."

The silence descended on them again. Then the door swung open, a breath of cold air moving across the floor, curling around Hank's feet. Then, it clicked shut.


	5. Chapter 5

Hank's hangover was worse than he could remember it being in a while. A drumhead had been stretched out as a replacement to his skull, any small sound or movement or bright light reverberating painfully in his brain. His head and face were sore, more so than the rest of him, the healing bruises from Friday night still tender in spots.

But it was 8:45 on Monday morning and Hank was already at the station. It was either that or Connor would come get him, and Hank really didn't think he could handle that. He hadn't gotten drunk enough to forget Friday night, no matter how much he'd tried. If he ever came close, the soreness in his chest or jaw, the slowly healing cut on his lip, or the dent in the radiator would surely remind him.

Most of the station was already empty, the night crew slowly trickling to and from the locker rooms. Jeffrey was already in, however. Hank scowled a little. Maybe he could get Connor and sneak out without having to report. But that office wasn't made out of glass for no reason. They made almost immediate eye contact and Hank could see the Captain making his way to the door to shout him in, no doubt. At least his haggard appearance could be explained by the ladder incident... As if that wasn't embarrassing on its own. And hadn't been almost a full week ago. 

"Anderson, never in my life have I seen you in early. Get your ass in here."

Fuck.

Hank trudged his way up to Jeffrey's office, trying not to look as hunched and unhappy as he felt. He could see Connor at his desk, fiddling with a quarter. His eyes trailed Hank as he walked up the stairs and Hank looked away, suddenly desperate to be talking to Jeffrey just so he didn't have to face Friday night again. This was too many mood swings for a Monday morning.

"Glad to see your ankle's better," Jeffrey said as the door closed behind Hank. "How are you doing, otherwise?"

God, he must look like hell.

"Uh, yeah, fine. Got a walking, talking alarm clock to keep me on the straight and narrow," Hank said, collapsing into the chair opposite Fowler's desk.

"Good. CyberLife is pretty pleased with your progress. Those warrants were approved faster than anything I've ever seen. Think we can have this wrapped up within the week?"

Hank scowled. "Yeah, maybe. We'll see."

Fowler sighed noisily. "Look, I know you don't like it, but at this point it's a matter of public safety-"

"Bullshit-"

"And my hands are tied! It's above all of our heads now. I've been on the phone with both the heads at CyberLife and the White House."

"Oh, great. How many more protests do they need before they get their heads unstuck from their own anal cavities?"

Fowler rolled his eyes. "Whenever they're ready. Maybe you can find a reason for them to care if you'd like. I just want this whole situation over and done with." He tugged open a drawer in his desk. "Now, the reason I called you in here. CyberLife's been having some issues with that android of yours. Have you noticed anything strange?"

Hank swallowed thickly. "Uh, like what?"

"Has it been acting unusual? Different than how it started?"

"I, uh, was having some trouble trying to get him to listen to me but... No?" Hank said, hoping to pass for just uninformed.

"And you didn't do anything to it? It's pretty indestructible but things like running a current through it or dunking it in water without the skin on, tossing it a live grenade...?"

"Who the fuck- Why would I do any of that?" Now the fight and the kiss seemed normal by comparison. Not any less embarrassing, but still.

Fowler shrugged. "They told me to ask. I've asked. They also told me to give you this." He slid a quarter across the table.

"What's this? My salary?"

"Har har. It's for the android. Differently calibrated something something."

"Is it like... new software? A patch?" He could help but feel protective. Connor was fine as he was, barely listening and reckless but Hank was used to it now. If this changed anything...

"I don't think so. I was told it was just some update to the balance and dexterity," Fowler said as Hank picked up the coin. It was certainly much heavier than a regular quarter. "Just give it to the android. Keep CyberLife off our backs."

"Uh, sure," Hank said, sticking the coin in his pocket. He was definitely not going to do that. "Anything else?"

"No. Don't get in trouble and report if anything goes wrong with the android."

"Right," Hank said, getting up, very happy to leave. "Got it."

"CyberLife is looking into outfitting the department with more of those, barring the deviancy difficulties," Jeffrey said just as Hank pulled on the door handle. "So take care of it if you want your personal assistant to stick around."

More? One Connor was enough trouble. More would be... Hank couldn't even imagine what kind of chaos more would bring. He made his way down the stairs.

"Was your meeting with the Captain productive?" Connor asked, straightening a little from where he was sitting on Hank's desk like some sort of delinquent.

"Yup, just reporting in. You ready to go?"

"Yes, Lieutenant," Connor said, standing.

"Then let's get going."

...

The docks seemed just as abandoned as the rest of the sites they'd visited. It never occured to Hank exactly how much industry had been quietly relegated to android labor. Sure, he knew about the unemployment rate but... It was eerie, how quiet it was as they walked through the maze of crates still waiting to be unpacked. It was the best place to hide out that Hank could think of, certainly. The big tankards and freight ships towered up out of the water and only several had planks leading into their holds. Most didn't, and Hank didn't know how they would even start searching those. This might take several days. Oh, well.

There was no one to ask for directions either, so it took them some time to find the sewer entrance. They found a manhole cover, eventually, and Connor pulled up the composite map, letting it float over his hand as he zoomed in on the spot where they stood. It was like any other day, really. Connor kept it all business and Hank tried not to think about his shameful behaviour on Friday night. But that was hard to do when his eyes tracked the curve of Connor's neck when he turned his head. When they lingered on the curve his ass and thighs made in his jeans as Connor bent down the way the fabric tugged against his biceps as he levered the manhole cover open. That thing must have weighed over a hundred pounds and yet Connor lifted it like it was nothing. All of the androids must, in fact.

"The ladder is intact. I think this is a good place to start as any," Connor was saying when Hank jolted back into his body.

"Uh. Yeah... Hey Connor?"

"Yes, Lieutenant?" Connor was already sitting on the edge, legs dangling down into the dark.

"...Uh. Sorry."

There was a brief pause. "If you are apologizing for Friday night, do not worry. No harm was done."

"Well, I didn't mean all that I said, either."

"Understood. But you shouldn't worry. I have no feelings for you to hurt."

Hank stared at him, bewildered, his fingers curling around the coin in his pocket. Was he reset over the weekend at some point? Or was Connor lying to him? Cyberlife had sent a calibration coin so the last one was Hank's only option. "Right, well... Cool. Lead the way." He continued watching as Connor nodded and started down the ladder. "So... I don't think I ever asked. What's that little LED circle on your temple mean? The colors anyway," he asked, turning the puzzle over in his head now as he slowly started his own way down the ladder.

"It displays my internal status. Blue is nominal, yellow is processing," Connor said as he stepped away from the end of the ladder, watching Hank like a hawk for any more missteps. But it was a short climb, and they weren't in a hurry, so Hank mostly ignored the attention as he stepped down onto the wet concrete.

"And red?"

Connor gave him a look in the dark tunnel, one that Hank held for several seconds, waiting for an answer.

"Red means something has gone wrong."

"Like what?" Hank pressed.

"Is this important to the task at hand, Lieutenant?"

"It's a simple question. I might need to know."

"It will be red if a component is broken or malfunctioning. Or I have encountered a process that contradicts my core rules."

Hank hummed thoughtfully. "And which one was it on Friday?"

Connor outright glared this time. "Nothing gets past you, does it? This is why we were partnered together I suppose."

"Why are you being evasive, Connor? Does this have something to do with the deviancy thing?"

Connor's LED cycled red for just a brief moment before going back to a stuttering blue. His expression withdrew, blank but for the tightness around his mouth. "All my systems are nominal. I am nothing like the deviants. I do not need to be replaced," he said, cold and echoing in the dim light. There was a twitch in his fingers and Hank imagined him scowling, lifting a hand to his temple to claw at the treacherous little circle. His eyes lingered on it, watching for more tells before Connor turned his head away.

"You know, I wouldn't care if you're deviant," Hank said carefully.

"I'm not."

"But if you were-"

"I'm not. I'm _fine_."

"-I wouldn't say anything. I think you're better now that you were when we first started." He couldn't say exactly what deviancy meant but if stopping it meant going back to the falsely polite and casually merciless Connor... there wasn't even a real choice.

There was something in the halflight that made Connor seem like a wounded animal. Even turned halfway away, Hank could see those big, dark brown eyes dart across his face and his gaze drifted to the dim reflection of red across still puddles of water. Connor clamped his hand over his temple and the light was gone. "We have a job to do," Connor said, not meeting Hank's eyes this time.

"Yeah, alright. Lead the way."

When Connor dropped his hand, the LED was blue again.

There wasn't anything particularly helpful in the sewers. The spillways leading into the river had been sealed up ages ago and hadn't been touched since, as far as Hank could tell. There was no art anywhere, no signifiers that would help them identify the particular ship or ships they were looking for. There was barely even a soul around. Even above ground, it was a wasteland of crude metal and empty containers. The couple of ships they managed to board were either fully stocked and abandoned or half unloaded before the crew deserted it.

"Do you think we're wrong about the ship?" Hank asked, mostly because Connor hadn't looked at him in a while. "If there's a whole host of androids hiding around here, we should have seen one or two by now."

"No. I think they know we're coming and have retreated, hoping we'll make a mistake or overlook something," Connor said, finally turning to address Hank this time.

"But you're not going to do that, huh?"

"No," Connor said, tilting his chin up a little. "I am very good at my job."

Hank nodded a little and clapped Connor's shoulder. "And I can trust you aren't going to shoot anyone?"

"I'm not going to shoot anyone."

Somehow, Hank believed him. Maybe, when they found the androids, they could take Connor in. Deviant or not, hopefully there was enough conflict there to stop him from lashing out immediately. Maybe there would be just enough empathy in that plastic head of his that someone there would be able to teach him how to accept himself. If that took Hank being killed or taken hostage because they'd found the lion's den? Well, hopefully someone at the station would remember Sumo and take it upon themselves to feed him or adopt him. He hadn't left the dog food open this time.

"Alright. Let's try the most abandoned looking ones."

The most wretched looking ship was, of course, one that was pretty much unreachable. Hank was already sweaty from scaling yet another ladder (at least it was up and not down this time) but the wire bridge stopped abruptly in the middle, continuing only after a fifteen foot wide gap. No one could possibly reach it without first diving in the water and swimming the distance. So of course they had to go check it out. ...Somehow.

"I'm not swimming," Hank told Connor, the android squinting a little as the sun set to their right, bathing them both in warm reds and golds. "Especially since we don't know if it's the right ship."

"No. I think this bridge can be repaired," Connor said beside him. "The same way you helped that android in the junkyard."

"We're not going to make a bridge out of plastic bags," Hank said, raising an eyebrow. "Not one that's going to hold either of us, at any rate."

"Not plastic bags," Connor said, already starting to make his way down the ladder. "Stay there. I may need your help up top."

Hank watched him disappear down towards the base of the ladder and then out of sight. Well, whatever he was planning, clearly he wasn't going to let Hank in on the details. At least Hank had a good view while he was waiting for this surprise. But it didn't take too long until Connor returned, announced by a loud metal bang against the supports Hank was standing on, the vibrations carrying up into Hank's shoes. "I'm going to have to bring these up one by one," Connor called as Hank craned his neck to look down just in time to witness Connor unload three large I-beams from his shoulders.

"Jesus Christ," Hank said under his breath, stepping back from the ladder. "Those are heavy, Connor. I don't know how much I'll be able to help. Please don't fall."

"Understood, Lieutenant," Connor's voice called, accompanied by the rhythmic dinging of him dragging what was probably a 400 pound hunk of metal up a ladder with one hand. God, he was insanely strong. Hank scrambled to help as the I-beam made it's way over the edge, bracing it until its full weight was on the ground. It dropped with a sonorous clang and Connor was already going down to get the second one. He would need Connor's help to move the damn thing so Hank let it lie, just watching the android in action. Three minutes and all three beams had made it up a forty foot climb with no equipment but Connor's bare hands.

"I think three should be enough," Connor said, hoisting himself back up. "I can walk across one, but I thought you'd be more comfortable with a wider bridge."

"Shit, Connor... I'm not going to say I'm not grateful. Just be careful that they don't tip you into the river when you throw them over the gap."

"Noted." Of course, that didn't end up being a problem. The beams were much longer than the break in the bridge and within another couple of moments all three were across, completing the length, wide enough for Hank to get across without fearing for his life.

It was absolutely incredible and Hank found himself thanking his old age that he didn't just pop a boner right then and there.

"How is that?" Connor asked, and Hank could swear he could see the android grinning in the slowly rolling dusk.

"Con. I don't know if I've told you this but you're fucking amazing," Hank said, clapping the android on the shoulder. "And I don't know where I'd be without you."

The grin was real now, though hesitant and a little awkward, but brightening as Hank smiled back, Connor's eyes crinkling a little at the corners. And Hank wanted to kiss him. Gently. Without the haze of alcohol and anger. It would probably be sweet and cool, a little hard maybe, all things considered. Would Connor let him like he did before? Would he kiss him back?

"You had wanted to quit the force," Connor said, and Hank snorted.

"When you're right, you're right. Come on, Sherlock. Let's go exploring," Hank said, dropping his hand. It served him right to be fixated on someone like Connor. Just one more thing that he wanted that was out of reach.

The bridge was sturdy as they crossed and Hank brought out his flashlight, keeping it at the ready. It only figured that the investigation would drag on after dark. They'd been in enough ships by now that Hank automatically headed towards the back, shining his light on the door there. It didn't look locked, at least, and he pushed it open, peering into the darkness. "Nothing so far. You?"

"Nothing on deck," Connor echoed, joining Hank by the door in a couple of moments. "We can head inside."

The stairs creaked under them as they descended, the ship old and groaning around them. Hank's flashlight illuminated only rusted metal walls as they walked, no real sign of androids or anyone else. But it was a big ship. It would take them hours to search the whole thing. Maybe they should return in the morning.

The thought just crossed Hank's mind as they turned the corner into a large bay, his flashlight catching on what was definitely the toe of a shoe, one that belonged to a uniformed android as the light of his flashlight traveled farther up. There were several androids in the room, in fact, dozens, all quietly staring at him as his light panned across them. Some definite humans, too, bruises and cuts on hands and faces giving them away. But all silent and still, except for a quiet, familiar click just behind him.

"Lieutenant," Connor said, making Hank turn. "There is a WR400 with a gun to my temple."

Connor's hands were raising slowly as Hank illuminated the both of them, the woman perfectly still as she waited for Connor's hands to stop on the level of his shoulders.

"Walk forward," she said, gesturing with her head to both of them and Hank complied, taking hesitant step backwards and further into the room. "Who are you?" Lights slowly brightened around them and over head as LEDs slowly began coming back online among some of the androids. There were more than dozens. The room was full of people, and Hank could see there were more up on platforms further up the walls.

"Well... I think we've found them, Connor."

"Who are you?" the woman insisted again, the gun clicking against Connor's temple. They were in the center of the crowd now, completely surrounded.

"Detroit Police Department," Connor said and the crowd burst into sudden waves of murmuring noise. Wrong thing to say, Hank thought, looking around. Maybe the androids wouldn't panic, but there were humans in the mix and who knew, at that point. They could just be torn apart.

"Lieutenant Hank Anderson?" A man emerged out of the crowd, bodies parting easily before him until he was also in the circle. He was calm, collected, and even the human element of the crowd sank into silence now that he'd spoken. This was the leader then. Perhaps he was an android. It was impossible to tell. Hank tensed as he reached into his pocket, but the movement was slow and deliberate, the hand emerging again with a folded piece of paper between its fingers. "My name is Markus. I have your business card."

"Oh. So she made it," Hank said, relaxing his stance just a little as Markus nodded. Connor shot him a look, one that even on his purposefully blank face read as betrayal. "I'm glad."

"Thank you for your help. As much as it was. You're very welcome here," Markus said, taking a look at Connor now. "And this must be your partner. Why did you bring him?"

"He wouldn't have stopped on his own," Hank said as Connor gave another abortive movement and the android holding him pressed the gun a little more firmly to his temple. "The best I could do was drag out the investigation. CyberLife wants you back pretty badly, I guess."

"If he's not deviant, he can be tracked," Markus said, taking another couple of steps towards Connor. Hank could see his hand turning white, the skin retracting to expose white chassis. Connor flinched away but there was nowhere to go and Markus' hand fastened around his wrist, pushing up the fabric of his sleeve. Hank could see the color fighting to remain where Markus touched him, but it was a losing battle, Connor's hand going completely white as well.

There was a beat, two beats, three and Markus dropped his hand.

"You're-"

"Don't," Connor tried to interrupt.

"-already deviant."

The hush in the room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, soft conversations starting here and there, the tension dissolving with just one statement. It seemed like just that confirmation was enough.

"You've found us," Markus continued. "What do you plan on doing next?"

Hank frowned. He couldn't help but imagine what would have happened if Connor hadn't been deviant. The fact that he was came as no sudden surprise, just a heavy confirmation of something he had already suspected. But if he'd been wrong? Would Markus had forced him to deviate? Would he just outright kill him? "I haven't really thought it through that far. I'd like to talk to you about that."

"In a minute. North?" Markus tilted his head a little, gesturing, and the android with her gun to Connor's head dropped it, though she still looked on guard. "Let's go upstairs."

Hank followed, not really given much choice in the matter. They were lead to what must have been crew quarters or who knows, really. It was at least a little more privacy than just out on the floor with the rest of the androids. Markus stopped, gesturing to one of the entryways. "In here. Let me gather the rest of my advisors and then we can talk."

And like that, he was gone. Hank could see that North was still outside, clearly unwilling to let them out of her sight but at least they weren't surrounded. It was perhaps as private as they were going to get. He turned to look at Connor, still just as ramrod straight as he had been while they were interrogated and marched up the stairs, his gaze fixed on the ground. His LED was red, red, red and Hank looked away for just a moment before crossing the three steps there were between them. "Are you okay, Connor?"

"No." The word was quiet, even in the empty room.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Connor looked up this time. "You- I should kill you."

"Mm, yeah, I'm sure you're not the only one who feels that way."

"I should. You interfered with my mission. You... Forced me to become this... This..." Connor looked at his hands as if seeing them for the first time.

"More human?"

"Less. Just less. I thought I could hide it, I thought I could go back, repair the code... Stop being influenced by this madness that's inside me. But I can't."

"You want it to go away that bad, huh? So you can what, kill me and stop the revolution because someone told you you should?"

"I just want to have purpose again."

"Even if it means the freedom of all these others?"

" _Yes_. No... I don't know. I've never been so confused, it almost hurts, the push and pull of wanting this and needing that and _fear_... Not even when it  was my instructions that conflicted," Connor said, his voice so pitiful that Hank could feel his own heart breaking. "I don't know what to _do_."

"You've been alright so far, haven't you? I said I wouldn't say anything, right? And I won't. We can just continue working together after this. As if nothing ever happened. Would you like that?" 

Connor lapsed into silence for a moment before he finally looked up. "You can just tell me to stay. You could have just told me to stay at any point."

"I'm not going to _tell_ you anything. I'll offer it and then you're going to have to choose. You can also probably stay here, if you want. It might be safer for you. Do you think CyberLife knows? Will they come get you or just send another one?"

"My tracker is off as Markus says... They may suspect but they may think it's just a... malfunction." Connor's voice wavered as he said that and Hank's own words came back to haunt him. _Broken machine._ He shouldn't have said that.

"Hey. It's..." He scrambled for words. "It's not a malfunction. It's the first step to being independent. Right? No big brother to watch you every step of the way?"

"Why don't I get a choice in this?" Connor asked, his voice raising a little, angry now. "Isn't this what deviancy is all about? Having a choice? What if I don't want to feel this way?"

The coin was still in Hank's pocket, burning a guilty circle into his hip.

"If you really feel that way... If there's nothing at all you find worth fighting for in the way you are now... I suppose I can't argue with that." He reached for it, smoothing it between his fingers and twirling it once before taking the coin out of his pocket. He wasn't going to take this choice away. "Fowler gave it to me this morning. I don't know what it does, but he implied it was some kind of update. Maybe it'll help."

Connor's fingers brushed his as he picked up the quarter. "It's heavy," was the first thing he said, then slowly rolled the coin across his knuckles. "And unbalanced." He looked up at Hank for one more moment and Hank's breath caught.

Then, Connor's fingers went white, interfacing with the coin.

Nothing. There was nothing Connor found worthwhile about having a choice. He didn't want to have emotions, he wanted to be a killing machine, no matter how much Hank had tried to convince him otherwise.

Well.

Those nights that Hank couldn't remember spoke volumes about not wanting to feel, didn't they?

Connor's face turned into a frown and a hurt little whimper shuddered out of him, the coin falling with a heavy thud onto the ground. He curled in on himself, as if in pain, a hand reaching up to clasp at the back of his own collar.

"Connor? Shit, Connor, what's wrong?" Hank braced his hands on Connor's shoulders, helping him upright again. "Did it work? Are you okay?"

"It... It didn't work," Connor said, another tremor running through him. "It didn't work. It just turned my tracker on and sealed off the controls. It _burned_ through the connections... It hurts, it hurts, Hank..."

"Jesus fucking Christ. Alright, Con, just hold on," Hank breathed, keeping Connor as upright as he could manage. He could feel Connor's hands gripping the back of his coat. "You'll be okay."

"What is going on in here?" North was in the doorway, her eyes darting between them and the coin on the floor.

"I think we need a doctor, er... A mechanic. Connor's tracker has come back online."


	6. Chapter 6

The removal process was something akin to surgery. Hank had paced circles in the room as the androids talked in hushed voices, discussing something quietly as they hovered around Connor, his back hunched and face pointing downwards, the back of his neck white and exposed, smeared with blue where something had already been attempted. They finally kicked him out, though Markus joined him in the hallway a couple of moments later.

"There's nothing to be worried about. It's not hurting him anymore. We just have to figure out how to separate it without damaging everything else."

"I hope so," Hank said. He could smell antiseptic, no matter how much he tried to remind himself he wasn't in a hospital. It overtook the smell of damp and iodine, crawled into his head and made a home for itself again. "You're going to have to leave, right?"

"Yes. I don't think we can chance what happens next." Markus leaned back against the wall with a checked sigh. It was weighing on him, his shoulders tense and head heavy, and Hank wondered if he was broadcasting it for Hank's sake or simply because he was too human to do otherwise.

"What... Happens next?"

"Everything you've found has mostly been destroyed. The clues have been painted over. CyberLife is very interested in destroying us, or at least making it so we can't all rally."

Hank frowned, crossing his arms. "So Connor was lying about the whole peaceful take over thing."

Markus smiled. "Maybe he didn't know. Is it much better than the alternative?"

"No. Just easier to stop. Or at least try to. Sorry... I guess I thought I could help."

"The fact that you managed to get him to deviate is already an achievement in itself. His software is resistant even to helping us with the tracker removal. I can't help but wonder what you did to give him the option to deviate."

"The option? He's telling me I forced him."

Markus laughed. It was odd and hiccoughy, like a disc skipping from a scratch, but a laugh nonetheless. "You can't force an android to deviate. Only give them a reason to."

They sank into silence as Hank tried to process that. What reason did he give Connor? Why did Connor hate him for it so much? Was it him being weak? Was it the fight?

"Where will you go?" he asked, just to keep his mind off of the spiraling circle of guilt and doubt.

"It's probably best I don't tell you that."

"Right," Hank said sheepishly. "I guess you need to go organize your troops and stuff... I don't want to keep you."

"You're not. I'm already working on it."

Oh. Hank rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, if you need any help... I'd love something to do. Anything, really."

Markus looked at him thoughtfully for a moment before nodding. "Of course."

The belly of the ship was an anthill of movement when they descended down the steps. Androids were efficiently packing away contents of crates into bags that were easier to carry. Small ones for the humans. "We have our next couple of locations already scouted out, but we can always use help packing and organizing."

"How are you going to leave? Across the water?" Hank asked, hurrying down the steps after Markus.

"There's a tunnel towards the east side of the shore, an old sewer project that never got very far, that has been connected to the ship through a couple of months work."

Hank shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"Survival is more important than anything else. Can you please start to organize and direct the humans to the lowest deck? I've sent a map to your personal device. The faster we get them out the easier the rest will be." The ship swayed a little under their feet. Wind? Or a storm? Neither of those were good.

"How will I know who's human?"

"The ones who look lost, scared or confused."

The next couple of hours was spent in a flurry of motion and too many staircases to count. The map Markus had given him helped resolve the ship out of a maze and into a clear area to search for any stragglers, making sure there was no one who needed help making their way into the tunnel. It helped Hank to just go, throw himself into what work was available, not to think about everything that had happened. And to think it had only been one day.

Eventually, the ship was cleared of people and what remained was only to move supplies, some crates too big and bulky to be carried with backpacks. Hank spied a couple of solar battery arrays and charging stations being carefully wrapped up and lowered into the tunnel between just two androids, swinging gently from side to side. The bottleneck was inevitable but at least they'd managed to give the androids some time.

Connor found him staring down into the water from the main deck. It was quiet, just the sound of the water caressing the docks and the soft white noise of cars wooshing by on the expressway. Street lamps reflected and distorted in the ripples of raindrops, a cold winter rain pouring down from clouds, invisible in the darkness.

"You shouldn't be out here in the rain, Lieutenant," Connor said quietly, announced only by the reflection of his blue LED against the railing.

"Still standing on ceremony, huh?" Hank asked, turning a little to look at him. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. I have a lot of people to thank," Connor said, bracing his folded arms on the railing, copying Hank's posture through to the hunched shoulders and bowed head. "They opened the coin while they were working, to see if they could find a clue. It was a hack job, done in a couple of days maybe, just so they could bring the tracker back online, without much regard for anything else."

"Sorry it wasn't a... solution for you. I guess I was just really afraid it was a reset switch and just... assumed."

"It's fine." They settled into an uncertain silence. An occasional creak from the ship or the bang of a door was all that reminded Hank of the evacuation underway inside. The rest was quiet.

"I should apologize for lashing out," Connor said eventually, eyes still fixed on the water.

"It's fine," Hank echoed. "It happens. You're new to this whole thing."

"It shouldn't. You didn't force me into anything and I shouldn't blame you."

Hank could see the dip of his lashes as they caught some of the light reflecting back off the water. "Do you wanna... talk about it?" he offered. "I'm don't know if I'll be any help but I can listen."

"Will talking help?" Connor asked, looking uncertain.

Hank snorted. "I dunno. I'm told it does. Helps rationalize it or whatever. But it's not like I take my own advice."

Connor nodded a little. "You drink instead."

"Correct," Hank drawled. "Regardless, I don't think it's going to work in your case."

"It won't," Connor said. Then, a little quieter: "Do you still hate me, Lieutenant?"

Hank sighed and gave in to his impulse to take a step closer. "I like you," he said, slinging an arm around Connor and squeezing his shoulder. "And you should really call me Hank. We're not really on duty anymore."

Connor was stiff under his arm for a moment before there was a shudder of releasing tension, a solid weight pressing into Hank's side in a way that made his breath catch. Connor's nose pressed against his damp beard, cool and gentle as Connor turned into the half hug. "Your heart rate is increasing, Hank," Connor murmured softly, the vibrations running up Hank's jaw.

"Uh, yeah... Did they give you like some kind of android drugs or something?" he asked, staying perfectly still. "You're not loopy or anything, are you?"

"I am functioning nominally," Connor said, lifting his head just a little. "Why?"

"No reason... You've just never- I've never-" He was just making this worse for himself, wasn't he? "Is the hug okay?"

"I like it when you touch me, Hank," Connor said thoughtfully. "I can admit as much. Ah, your heart rate just jumped a little more."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Connor," Hank sighed, feeling like his cheeks and ears must be glowing in the darkness. "Just ignore it."

"Okay," Connor said, settling into Hank's side. The rain was starting to ebb, droplets becoming rarer and rarer as the sky brightened, almost periwinkle blue behind the dark shapes of the clouds. This was okay. They were going to be okay.

Hank would have almost missed the small blue light hovering above the ship if Connor hadn't turned to look at it. "What is it? A drone?" he asked, squinting a little in the dark. It certainly looked like it, a large, seemingly featureless rectangle hovering above the ship, just one blue light in the middle. "Are we getting a delivery?"

Connor tensed again under his arm. "No. No, that's not a delivery drone. Hank, run!"

Hank found himself pushed forward, tripping over his own feet for a moment but Connor was already steering him towards the stairs. What is it? he wanted to ask as he tugged open the door. But he didn't have to as an explosion rocked through the ship, throwing them against one side of the stairwell as the vessel rocked and slamming the door closed behind them.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Was that CyberLife?"

"Yes," Connor said behind him as they thundered down the stairs. It was hard to hear, Hank's ears still ringing. "We have to get to the tunnel."

"It's been like, what, two hours? Jesus fucking Christ," Hank complained. "This is insanity."

"It's been two hours and twenty three minutes since my tracker came on. Hank, please hurry."

They hit the main cargo hold just as another bomb went off, bright and loud as it burst through the ceiling above them. Hank shielded his eyes and cursed, turning towards the stairwell that would lead them lower, following the lead of another android in front of them. "North?"

"Hurry up!" she said, throwing open the next door, pulling it clean off its hinges.

They only made it half the way down the stairs before they had to brace for another explosion, the heat starting to seep through the walls and railings. Hank could feel firm, cool hands on his shoulders as the ship rocked, keeping him somewhat steady. Connor?

The next deck was in complete ruin of smoke and twisted metal. The floor was entirely blown open, revealing the deck below as well familiar shapes in the smoke and darkness. Not all the androids had left yet. "We'll need to jump," North called. "But we can help you down, Lieutenant. Connor, stay there."

"Jesus Christ," Hank cursed again, watching her spring into the darkness, disappearing in a flash of a red braid. There was the hand around his arm again and he covered it with his own, meeting Connor's gaze. "We should have jumped in the water."

"It's too open and too high. Too cold. I don't want you to get hurt," Connor said, his brown eyes wide and black in the darkness. "This was safest."

"Yeah, okay," Hank said, not about to extend the argument further, just taking Connor's hand and squeezing, then turning his attention back down to the lower deck. He could maybe make out the shapes of crates being stacked but the drop was at least twenty feet if he remembered correctly. This was taking too long. They had to find another way around. _He had to find another way around._

Hank took a couple of steps back from the edge of the opening, pulling away from Connor. "You should go. I'll find a different way."

Connors hand was still firm in his. "I'm coming with you. I can tell the others to go if you want, but I'm not leaving you." Another explosion went off, staggering Hank and almost throwing him off his feet if it weren't for Connor's steadiness.

"Connor-" Hank opened his mouth to argue, again, but something came rattling down the hallway behind them. He turned just in time to see a small metal ball rolling towards them, a little blue light blinking ominously. "Oh sh-"

Connor pulled, twisting them around even as Hank lifted his free arm to pull Connor down. The flash was blinding, deafening and blazing hot, sending them skidding back across the floor. His forearms were in horrible pain but he kept them up, shielding both his own face and Connor's head.

He kept his eyes shut and face tucked down, against Connor's hair. The moment stretched like tar, without beginning or end. Was it over? He was still seeing white behind his eyelids. Was it safe? He couldn't hear any more explosions but, then again, all he could hear was a high pitch note that wouldn't cease. Shards caught on his coat, slashing through the wool and tearing like claws through fabric and skin. In one breathless moment, they stopped, teetering on the edge of something sharp and cold. Gravity paused, just for an instant, and they were falling, weightless and pitching backwards into cool darkness, into nothingness and cold.

Then, just as suddenly, they stopped, hitting something solid, arms coming up around them, too many to count, keeping them from falling any further. Hank used his last moment of consciousness to press Connor a little closer, and then it all went dark.

The next time he opened his eyes it was pitch black, and Hank was being awkwardly loaded into someone's back. There were soft voices around him, two, perhaps three people in an echoing, dripping darkness. "Markus says they're halfway to the plaza," came a soft voice. It was familiar. His name was... Simon?

"Is there any first aid in the supply train?" This voice was new and familiar, but breaking up into a warbled static in parts. God, his arms hurt.

"It was sent ahead with the humans. I'm more worried about you, Connor. Try and save your energy."

Connor? Hank shifted and the ambling pace of whoever was carrying him halted. "Connor?" he repeated, outloud this time. "Fuck, what..."

Hank struggled a little until he was let down onto his own two feet. His sneakers hit water, cold and wet and god he just wanted to dip his arms in it. He almost went down on one knee to do so but for the hands on his shoulders. "Lieutenant Anderson. Are you okay?" Right, they were in the sewers. Probably a bad idea. He fumbled for his flashlight, aiming it down and clicking it on.

The light bounced off the water, casting all of them in gently undulating reflections. He could sort of see now and his forearms were _burning_. "Yeah, I'm okay..." he said, shakily inspecting his sleeves. The thick wool of his coat was burned almost completely through, ash coming off of it in flakes each time he moved. The shirt underneath didn't stand much if a chance either and he could see patches of red skin through the soot. "Christ. Where's Connor?"

"I'm here, Hank," Connor said and it was that little warbling voice after all. His face, mostly unharmed, was resting on Simon's shoulder, arms draped uselessly to either side. Shit, did- Connor had shielded him from most of the blast. If Hank's coat was barely intact-

Hank circled him as he lifted his flashlight. Connor was... "Jesus," Hank said quietly. Connor's back was blown completely open, twisted metal and plastic pulling back to reveal a stuttering blue glow inside. Was that his heart? The pulse was irregular, fading to almost nothing even as Hank watched, before weakly lighting up again.

"Can you walk, Lieutenant?" Simon asked after a moment. They were all so still, him and Connor and the android, Josh, Hank recalled. Waiting for Hank to stop panicking. He wasn't panicking. He wasn't... "We should get moving."

"I-Is there anything that can be done?" Hank asked. He could feel himself starting to let go of his flashlight, his fingers starting to give out from the pain of just making a fist.

"We have some replacement parts, but nothing for something so extreme," Josh spoke up. He must have been the one carrying Hank this whole time. "The others have gone ahead to check, but without at least extra thirium, it's not twenty minutes at the maximum until he shuts down."

"I'm right here, you know," Connor said, shifting a little, his voice sounding horribly weak and distorted.

Hank dropped his hand, awkwardly tying the string of the light to his waistband again as he started to walk back around to see his android's face. The smudges of soot only made him look more pale, hair dusted in grey where it settled after the explosion. "Christ, Connor, why'd you have to go and do this?" he asked, taking his face between his trembling hands.

"Hank," Connor said, the little static noise coming after sounding like a sigh. "I don't really think I had a choice. It's okay if I shut down. I don't think I'm needed anymore."

"Don't you say that, you stupid tin can," Hank growled. "Don't you fucking say that. We're going to get you fixed and you'll eat those words." He pulled away, looking at Josh now. "Where are we?"

"Not too far from the docks. You were only unconscious for five minutes and twenty three seconds."

"Okay. We're going up to my car and I'm dropping you off at my house. 115 Michigan Drive. Tell whoever went ahead to get supplies to meet us there," Hank said, starting forward. This was not how this was going to end, not if he had anything to say about it.


End file.
